


A Heady Blend

by fatale_distraction



Series: Making Bad Decisions: The Ellana Saga [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cuddly Solas, Dom Solas, Drunk Sex, Drunk Solas, Drunk and Cuddly, Elves in Celene's Bed, F/M, Halamshiral, Squirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:52:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatale_distraction/pseuds/fatale_distraction
Summary: The Inquisition has descended upon Halamshiral, and there is a slight possibility that Solas is inebriated. A rumor is floating around among the nobles that the Herald is sleeping with a certain 'manservant'. Well, if the nobles want a scandal, Drunk Solas is happy to oblige. And while one elf in the Empress' bed may be old news, TWO elves in the Empress' bed...?





	

Solas had been drinking. He would never admit to being drunk; he was still, as always, firmly in control of his faculties, but he had been sipping sparkling Orlesian wine from dainty glasses with a round, shallow bowl all night. There was a rumor floating around the ballroom that they had been molded from the very breast of Empress Celene herself.

  
The first glass, Solas had accepted from a blushing young elven maid out of mere politeness. The second, offered to him by yet another pretty serving girl who gave him a flirtatious smile along with his wine, he had accepted because he found himself enjoying the bubbly, rose-pink liquor far more than he had anticipated. By this point, he had stopped counting, and the drinks had kept coming. More than once, one of those smiling young women would flirt with him, batting their large eyes and swaying their hips provocatively; youthful, clumsy attempts to entice him, but each time he would only smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he brought the glass to his lips, and reject their advances as gently as he knew how. He was perfectly content drinking in a corner by himself, mentally critiquing his surroundings and observing courtly intrigue, preferring to spectate rather than participate in the noble debauchery, tucked away behind a curtain, groping between the damp thighs of some pretty elven maid far too young for a man his age.

  
At any rate, if he were to engage in any drunken heavy petting, he had an altogether different partner in mind.

  
Before he could chase that rabbit down a particularly dark and dangerous hole, the titter of laughter at some particularly insipid gossip caught his twitching ear, and he angled himself to hear better. It was difficult to suppress his relish at eavesdropping on the more mundane intrigues of court, the racy rumors of who was bedding whom’s wife, the catty jabs at Lady So-and-So’s poorly coordinated ensemble, the backhanded compliments and half-veiled insults. He had missed it terribly, this careless game of wits and charm.

  
“Can you believe the gall?” A heavily feathered woman was proclaiming to her companion. “It’s bad enough that the Inquisitor herself is a knife-eared little heathen daring to style herself as a Herald of our Lady Andraste, but then she brings TWO more of those filthy rabbits with her; one of them an apostate! In the Empress’ own palace!”

  
Solas snorted, and took another savory sip of the fragrant wine.

  
“And that other one, she’s a thief if I ever saw one! She passes by a table and suddenly there goes all the silverware, the napkin rings, three goblets, and my Bernard’s porcelain snuff box!” The other woman was wearing what appeared to be some poor merchant’s entire stock of lace. Solas nearly choked on his drink. Trust Sera to provide him with some amusement tonight.

  
A man standing nearby insinuated himself into the conversation. He wore the tall feather of a chevalier in his cap and a mask made of solid jade with a painted mustache and gold trim. “The court herald was far too generous with his title,” he scoffed. “A ‘manservant’? Bed warmer, more like.”

  
“Do you think?” The woman in lace gasped, fluttering a ridiculous peacock-feathered fan at her bosom.

  
“It is on the lips of their own followers! And did you see the way she looks at him? The Inquisitor is most certainly carrying on with this apostate ‘servant’ of hers.”

  
This made Solas frown at the bottom of his wine glass, the shallow bowl cupped in his hand elegantly. He gripped the stem instead, pushing away the image that rose unbidden to his mind by the soft curve of the glass. It wasn’t the first he’d heard of this rumor, but he couldn’t help but feel that if he had been warming the bed of so public a figure, he would certainly take better precautions than to allow for such gossip. And one might think, if one were in possession of a brain, that if there were any truth to such nonsense, that the Inquisitor might wish to stay as close to her purported lover as possible instead of flitting about with Sera, causing trouble.

  
Truthfully, they had only kissed, a mere handful of times outside the Fade. Any other unscrupulous activities remained safely beyond the Veil where they were safe from even the most malicious of gossip. Of course, there had been one time...In the Emerald Graves. Solas shook his head to clear his clouded mind of the image; chlorophyll-green light filtered through a lush canopy, sapling wet, freckled thighs that parted for him with a sigh…

  
He took another sip of the sweet, tangy liquor, savoring the heady buzz it lent as it fizzed over his tongue, drawing out the color in his pale cheeks. Even as he purged the inappropriate thoughts of her from his mind, there she was, as though summoned by his musings with her ever-reliable poor timing, round face aglow with mischief and a healthy dose of wine, if the half-empty glass in her hand was any indication. Solas watched her from his corner by the window. Ellana wasn’t the most graceful elf by any means, but the gown she’d chosen turned her awkward stumbling into pure elegance, as though she floated on air with each step. Made from fine, shimmering chiffon, the gauzy dress began as a creamy white that was so sheer as to be practically invisible, wrapped around her bare shoulders, her muscled arms and back a delicious contrast to the delicate garment. The diaphanous material formed a gentle gradient of midnight blue, hugging each curve as it darkened on the way down her body until it fell from her shapely hips in a full, tightly gathered ocean of tiny stars painstakingly embroidered in silver thread and dusted with silver leaf. The neckline was dangerously low, cut straight across the swell of her freckled breasts, accentuated all the more by a glittering silver necklace with a sapphire charm that dangled right between those soft, milky mounds, the way her flaming red hair was braided and piled on top of her head with the exception of a single, curling stand that trailed down the smooth slope of her neck. She was resplendent, ethereal, the way the slippery fabric cradled every curve; all it would take was the slightest brush of his fingers to slide that flimsy scrap from her shoulders, the merest tug for it all to simply come apart in his hands, slipping from her soft body with a quiet hiss. There was no way she was wearing smalls, not in a dress so tight, so sheer and fine. A thin slip for modesty, perhaps, but certainly no smalls.  
Then her violet eyes lighted on him. She smiled, having caught his shameless appraisal of her figure, and came toward him, the immense skirt swirling around her and molding to her thighs as she walked. Solas leaned back against the wall and crossed his legs in front of him to obscure the rather urgent need making itself apparent, pressing at the front of his breeches. 

“See something you like, Hahren?” She teased, spreading the voluminous skirt for him to admire.

  
“I see a great many things I like here tonight,” he deflected with a coy smile, taking another pair of drinks from the tray of a passing servant. He passed one to Ellana, distinctly aware that every eye in the room was now trained on them.  
“Like what?” She pressed, stepping closer, her skirts whispering against his legs.

  
Solas considered her bosom for a moment, eyes lingering longer than he’d meant them to as he tried to focus his hazy mind on her question. The scent of lilac wafted on the air around her, tickling his nose as he inhaled to speak.

  
“The marble flooring is quite elegant, though it does scuff and scratch far too easily. The choice seems to speak more of a display of ignorance than one of opulence. Better to show that you can afford to construct a flooring that will last than to show you can afford the constant upkeep of an aesthetic choice. The tapestries are tasteful and eye-catching, though I would hang them a bit lower, and choose a more simple wainscoting to pair with the elaborate crown molding. You must draw the eyes up, not down.” He took another long sip of wine. “The curtains are quite satisfactory, however.”

  
Ellana laughed. “Have you spent the whole night critiquing the decor?” She said, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

  
“I intend to write a scratching review,” he leaned forward conspiratorially.

  
“You do not!”

  
“I assure you, I do.”

  
Ellana crossed her arms over her chest. Solas felt his eyes snap directly to the rise of her breasts, but managed to keep his expression schooled. “And what of the fashion?” The young elf asked with a pointed look. “Will you delight your readership with your lofty opinions on Orelsian couture?”

  
He didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. It is appalling. One the whole gaudy, and in the poorest of taste. While the Empress has shown remarkable restraint in adorning herself with only one metal sculpture affixed to her gown, the Duchess de Chalons seems to have butchered a very large butterfly for its wings only to shame its beauty with an uncouth neckline that turns her figure into that of a hunchbacked serpent, paired with infantile bows aplenty, and a shocking hairstyle that would be better suited to a band of particularly unwashed mercenaries than a palatial ball, the result being decidedly grotesque and frankly criminal in nature.” Solas couldn’t help a chuckle of his own when Ellana burst out laughing, cupping a hand over her mouth, but he wasn’t quite done with her yet.

  
“But there was one saving grace,” he continued. “A singular presence that formed a thirst-quenching oasis of beauty in an arid desert of overcompensation.” Ice grey eyes bored into hers. “The finest chiffon, shimmering like the night sky, so ephemeral as to be akin to the merest wisp of a cloud, elegantly draped with the most tasteful shift from bared skin to a swirling galaxy of stars made liquid, a train of fabric one could gladly drown in.”

  
Ellana’s jaw dropped open. She caught it, though her wide eyes remained fixated on his in shock, the color in her cheeks now having nothing to do with the wine. Solas traced the slope of her neck with his gaze, eyeing that temptatious stray curl. He so longed to brush it aside and bury his mouth against the soft skin of her shoulder. He indulged himself, lifting a hand to carefully coax the curl back over her shoulder, fingers ghosting against her bared skin and skimming down to lift the slim silver chain with the very tips of his long fingers. “Such elegant simplicity put to such stunning effect...truly the belle of the ball.”

  
“Stop it,” she laughed, though her eyes begged, ‘tell me more’. The chain slipped away like a trickle of water and Solas took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up to his. He felt the shiver that crawled through her body.

  
“I have heard the most absurd rumor tonight, vhenan,” he murmured.

  
Ellana swallowed. “Oh?”

  
Pale lips twitched in amusement. “Oh, yes.” Solas leaned forward, his voice pitched to a low rumble as he slowly stretched his words out. “Apparently, we have been up to some rather deviant behavior, you and I.”

  
“Us?”

  
“Indeed.”

  
“In...bed?”

  
Solas nodded. “That is the rumor.”

  
“We haven’t.”

  
“No,” he agreed with a tilt of his head. “But it isn’t all that far-fetched, as rumors go.”

  
She glanced up at him beneath dark lashes, vulnerable, but with a spark of mischievous flame. “Are you suggesting we give these uptight prissiness something to be truly aghast over?” Her hand tiptoed its way up to rest on his chest. Solas felt his heart, and his pants, tighten significantly. He chuckled, amused by how forward the little Inquisitor could be when she had a drink or two in her.

  
“Perhaps another time, ma lath,” he said, glancing over her head to where the nobles weren’t even pretending to mind their own business. “Our current audience is a bit too attentive for the debauchery I have in mind.”

  
“And what sort of debauchery do you have in mind?” Her head tilted, stretching that lovely, arching neck, tendons stretching and drawing a line down to protruding collarbones, which formed a beautiful little arrow pointing straight into that enticing space between her breasts. She was like a fine painting, each line and curve perfectly calculated to draw the eye exactly where the artist wished.

  
“Solas. Solas!” The Inquisitor snapped her fingers in front of his face, his eyes shooting back up to hers. “Not that I don’t appreciate the attention, but my eyes are up here.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Are...are you drunk?”

  
“No.”

  
“You are!”

  
“I’m not.”

  
“How many of these have you had?” Ellana demanded of him, pointing at the nearly empty glass in his hand.  
Again, he considered the tempting swell of her breasts very carefully before answering. “There is...a slight possibility that I may be intoxicated.”

  
She laughed, pushing at him playfully. “How slight, exactly?”

  
Solas frowned and caught her by the arms as she pushed at him. “Behave yourself,” he scolded with a teasing look.

  
The effect those two words had on her was obvious. Ellana froze, breath caught in her throat, cheeks aflame, lips parted slightly with her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline in surprise. Another little tremor swept through her. Solas couldn’t keep his lips from twitching into a satisfied smirk. So she liked that, did she? He pulled her closer, taking a step backward to place them safely behind the cover of a towering statuary, and leaned close to her ear. “You will behave yourself tonight, do you understand me?” He whispered, lips brushing against her earlobe. “And if your behavior is to my satisfaction, I may just reward you for it.”

  
He released his hold on the smaller woman abruptly and she stumbled back, eyes wide, pupils dilated. Solas gave her a disarmingly sweet smile, then took a casual sip of his wine.

  
“Y...you goddamned tease!” She fumed, scarlet with embarrassment.

  
The mags laughed aloud. “Vhenan, if you wish to injure me, you’ll need much better ammunition than that.”

  
“I bet Sera still has some bees…” the girl mused darkly.

  
“The two of you have been enjoying yourselves, then?” Solas seized the opportunity to change to a less dangerous subject, laughing in anticipation of what was no doubt a very amusing response.

  
Ellana snickered and stepped closer again. “Remember all those stolen breeches?” She asked in a giggling whisper. “Well, we found a use for them!”

  
Solas raised a tawny eyebrow, fighting to ignore the sweet warmth of her breath tickling his ear. “Do I want to know?”  
“Well, we had to do something after we ate all the filling out of that big cake in the kitchens…”

  
Solas gave an indelicate snort. He found his wine-addled mind and eyes wandering again. He thought of pinning her to the wall behind him, even in front of half of Orlais’ nobility, and ripping open that flimsy bodice, just like in those awful novels Varric peddled. But before his ‘slightly intoxicated’ mind could convince him to do just that very thing, his cock twitching at the thought of those pert breasts spilling obscenely over the shredded remains of chiffon, Sera stampeded in from the gardens, and barreled into them, all flushed cheeks, frazzled hair, and heaving breaths. Her red dress was already torn and stained with mustard, and she was grinning from ear to pointed ear.

  
“Bedroom!” She gasped, leaning heavily on Solas and shaking Ellana’s arm. “Celeny’s bedroom! There’s a--guard--” she panted. “All tied up! On the bed--no breeches--no nothing!!” The blonde began to haul on both of her companion’s arms, dragging them away to find Cassandra and investigate further.

  
“And what exactly were you doing in the Empress’ bedchambers?” Asked her elder, allowing himself to be manhandled.  
Sera scoffed as if it should have been quite obvious. “Well, now it's been two elves in Celeny’s bed, innit?” The girl cackled.  
Solas couldn’t suppress a laugh of his own. “Quite the scandal…”

 

* * *

 

 

The Royal Wing proved to be very enlightening, but Ellana could hardly focus on their discoveries. After freeing the unlucky guardsman, Cassandra had suggested a sweep of the wing, leaving Ellana plenty of time to mull over her earlier conversation with Solas. 

  
She’d never seen him like that, at least not in public, outside the Fade. Beyond the Veil, he acted more freely upon his feelings. Aside from their chaste kisses at Skyhold, and a few not-so chaste when no one else was around, there had only been one time outside the Fade that he’d allowed his passions to get the better of him.

  
Alone in the Emerald Graves, she’d been washing dirt and blood from her clothes and body; knee-deep in the stony river, wearing only her tunic and smalls. Solas had stumbled upon her and for a moment they’d simply stared at one another, unsure where this would lead. Then she’d straightened up, breasts swinging gently beneath the loose linen garment, smiled at him with the suggestive arch of a brow, and found herself pressed against the smooth surface of a nearby boulder with her smalls around one ankle, knees locked around Solas’ neck. He’d had her undone just as quickly as he would have in the Fade, his clever fingers and tongue entirely unexaggerated. He’d smiled as he’d taken her, and she’d watched him take his pleasure of her, toes curling with each rare, soft moan that whispered against her moist heat.

  
Ellana pulled her dress back on in preparation for her return to the ballroom, to report their findings to Leliana. She wondered if his behavior was only the result of wine, or if Solas was planning on losing himself in her again. She slipped back out into the hall to rejoin her friends, the only sounds in the wing were the clack of her heels and the silent hush of her skirts skimming over the tile. She wandered from room to room, poking her head into each one to make sure no one got left behind. Finally, there was only one room left to check. Ellana rested her hand on the ornate golden handle leading to the Empress’ private chambers. The latch lifted with a faint click and peered inside.

  
She nearly screamed.

  
Solas was reclined against the countless, fluffy pillows of Empress Celine’s massive four-poster bed, long legs stretched out and crossed in front of him, looking very pleased with himself and quite at home.

  
“Solas!” Ellana hissed, laughing as she slipped inside and carefully shut the door behind her. Cassandra might actually explode if she saw this. “What in the world are you doing?”

  
He smiled and tilted his head at her. “Now there have been three elves in the Empress’ bed,” he replied cheekily, face still rosy from drink.

  
Ellana snorted into her hand, laughing as she hurried up the shallow stairs that lead to the upper platform of the opulent room. “You waited in here this whole time for the sake of Sera’s joke?”

  
“Absolutely.”

  
“You really are sloshed, aren’t you?”

  
He frowned and put an elegant hand to his chest. “You wound me, vhenan. I may be enjoying a pleasant buzz, but I would hardly call myself ‘sloshed’. I am completely in control of my facilities.”

  
“Faculties,” corrected Ellana.

“I beg your pardon?”

  
“The phrase is ‘in control of my faculties’, not facilities, you lush,” she giggled, drawing nearer to the bed, her fingers trailing along the silken sheets.

  
Solas narrowed bleary eyes at her. “How dare you correct my speech in my own royal quarters.”

  
She snorted again, then suddenly found herself jerked forward, Solas’ hand at her elbow. “I believe I instructed you to behave yourself, did I not?” He murmured, voice low, a dangerously amused glint in his stone-grey eyes. Ellana swallowed audibly and his smirk widened with a little huff of laughter. “If you’re so intent on misbehaving, why don’t you make it four?”

  
“W-what?” She faltered.

  
“Four elves in the bed of the Empress...” he clarified with a deceptively soft rumble. “Almost the beginning of a riddle, wouldn’t you say?”

  
“Does this riddle of yours involve the lewd desecration of Celene’s royal bed?”

  
“Oh, yes, vhenan…” he rasped, pulling her into the bed, following her every move like a predator; taking in the stretch of muscle and tendon as she climbed up next to him, the way her skirts shifted over her thighs, whispering against the rich silken sheets, the way her breasts strained at the tight gossamer bodice. His hands moved to pull endless pins from her hair until it fell around her in a wave of red, pooling around her hips as he combed his fingers through the gentle curls. “Yes, it most certainly does.”

  
He let her get comfortable in the enveloping softness of the down mattress, softer than anything she’d ever known, watching her pulse beat in her throat, the rise and fall of her bosom, the smooth swell of her hips. He ran his hands through the wispy length of her hair, brushing it back over her bare shoulders. One hand traced her cheek with a light finger, tilting her chin up to face him while the other raked through her hair.

  
“I’d always wondered what you’d look like with your hair down…” murmured Solas, moving closer.

  
Ellana leaned into his touch until their shoulders bumped and she glanced up at him from beneath sooty lashes. “Oh? And what else have you wondered about?” Her smile was coy, but her eyes were shy. She could have sworn she saw the barest hint of color bleed into the tips of his ears, across his cheeks and the freckled bridge of his nose.

  
“Plenty,” he admitted with candor. “You are a fascinating woman.” His breath teased at her slender ear, voice low and raw, desire palpable in each stressed syllable. “Each time I find myself privileged enough to learn something new about you, I only hunger for more.”

  
Heat rose like a flame in her stomach, spreading quickly between her thighs. Ellana squirmed, sensitive ear twitching as his breath ghosted over it, squeezing her legs tight with an imperceptible little keen. Solas didn’t miss the movement, eyes snapping down to her thighs and back up with a smug smirk spreading across his lips. His hand dropped from her cheek to caress the fullness of her hip.

  
“Do you hunger as well, vhenan?” The suggestive cadence was not lost on the Inquisitor. This time Solas couldn’t fail to catch the slight whine that trembled in her throat or the misty pleading in her eyes. He slowly stroked the thick curve of her hip, moving to cup her waist, sliding up a lean, muscled arm and over her shoulder to cup the side of her neck as he leaned in to kiss her, that smoky, sultry gleam in his eyes locked onto hers. Solas laid her down against the lush pillows, gently suckling at her lips while his hands made themselves busy, arranging her just as he wanted and exploring her body in soft, leisurely strokes. Long fingers ghosted over her breasts, down her ribcage with blunted nails, pressing into her fleshy hips with an appreciative groan. He squeezed again, just for the feel of it, thumbs stroking the protruding bone of her pelvis. She squirmed, pushing up against him with a needy whine.

  
Solas chuckled deep in his chest, teasing his tongue over her rosy lips with a soft, wet noise as she opened her mouth greedily for him, but he moved to nip at her jaw instead. “Patience,” he whispered, returning to kiss her again.

  
“You’re drunk,” Ellana murmured. She could taste the sweet tag of wine on his attentive tongue, smell the heady aroma on his warm breath. She knew she shouldn't allow this, in spite of the fact that she’d willingly jumped in headfirst, but she could hardly deny how badly she wanted this; for Solas to take her, here and now in the bed of the Empress who had burned the home of her elven lover’s people.

  
“I may have had a few glasses of wine,” Solas countered, nuzzling at the nape of her neck with a tender innocence belied entirely by his wandering hands and the roll of his hips between her legs, already hard and pulsing. “But it’s you I’m drunk on tonight, ma lath.” His mouth clamped down over her pulse with a hungry growl, and he sucked, so softly, with the barest flicks of his tongue and a sharp sting of teeth. Ellana gasped, shifting her position to give him an easier target. “You are far more intoxicating than any liquor, sweeter than any wine…” He sucked harder, pressing the small of her back as it arched up off the bed. Sharp teeth scraped over the darkening mark, soothed by long, languid drags of his tongue. Solas pulled away and pressed a tender kiss to the bruised flesh, nuzzling her again before moving down to dip his tongue into the hollow of her neck and rake his teeth over tendons and collarbone. Ellana ran gentle hands across the broad expanse of his back, the muscles there stronger than she would ever have expected. Solas hummed in appreciation, burying his face between her breasts with a comfortable sigh.

  
Ellana giggled. “You’re so snuggly when you’re drunk, Solas.”

He harrumphed, voice muffled against her chest. “I am not drunk.”

  
“You are--ow!” She yelped. He’d found the soft peak of a nipple through her dress and pinched. Worse, he was smirking; she could feel the pleased twitch of his lips against her skin.

  
She chomped down on his ear in retaliation. A low, shuddering moan shook his body, muscles tensing and seizing deliciously on top of her. Ellana grinned, quite proud of herself and flicked the tip of her tongue against the reddening point of his ear. Solas buried another quavering moan in her cleavage, hips flexing against hers.

  
“You devious little minx,” he hissed, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress. Ellana cried out when his teeth sunk into the tender flesh of one breast. He nudged the gauzy fabric of her bodice away with his nose, revealing a silky slip as the only thing preserving her modesty. Feeling a victorious surge, Solas closed his lips around the hardening nipple and teased at it over the slip, the slick fabric drinking up the moisture from his mouth. Ellana keened, writhing and pulling at the expensive red coat stretched across his shoulders. His fingers found minuscule buttons at the low back of her dress and plucked them open with expert fingers. Her own trembling hands found the golden clasps of his jacket and fumbled it open, pushing the thick fabric off his shoulders at the same time as she shimmied out of her bodice, the chiffon pooling around her waist. Solas hurled his coat across the room, his shirt quickly following it, then pulled Ellana free from the rest of her dress, leaving her in her sheer white chemise embroidered with lilacs. Her pale, freckled skin was flushed a lovely pink hue; in her cheeks, her ears, even the tops of her breasts, firm nipples straining at the silk from his attentions.

  
Solas paused a moment to properly admire the blushing figure laid out so artfully before him, her hair spread out beneath her, the dark bruise on her neck, the tiny red marks his teeth made on her breast. Ellana’s amethyst eyes were misty and hooded with lust as she started up at him, rosy lips parted as she drank in deep breaths that had her chest heaving. Solas let his hands roam over her body, massaging tough muscle as he went, working out knots she probably wasn’t even aware of having. The girl sighed and seemed to sink deeper into the plush bedding, stretching languorously as her body loosened. Then Solas ease the skirts of her chemise up her relaxed thighs, slowing his eager fingers to prolong his own anticipation. A triumphant grin twitched at the corner of his mouth.

  
“Ah. My dear Inquisitor, it would seem you’ve left your smalls somewhere,” he teased, letting his fingers run through the tight, red curls between her legs. She blushed and sucked on her lower lip, looking up at him with a coquettish smile. “How terribly naughty of you...and here I’d thought to reward you for such good behavior.”

  
Solas could have sworn he actually felt the heat emanating from her core increase at his words.

  
“You’ll have to punish me instead, it seems.” Ellana caught him off guard there, just a bit. The tips of his ears flushed and he coughed.

  
“It would seem so,” he managed with a chuckle, skimming his nails down the insides of her thighs. Solas watched them quiver with no small amount of satisfaction, smile widening as he noted a substantial patch of wet that had spread from her chemise to the sheets beneath her. Solas brushed his fingers through it, then up through her lower lips, slick and glossy with arousal. Ellana hissed in through her teeth, fisting the expensive sheets on their side of her. She squirmed as Solas separated her labia with a quiet, wet noise and growled in his throat and a click of his tongue. “Look how wet you are, vhenan. You’ve ruined the Empress’ sheets…”

  
Even through her squirms of pleasure, Ellana managed a laugh. “Clearly I’m not the first to do that.”

  
“Terribly bad behavior just the same…” the pads of the older man’s fingers drummed against the sweet little bud of her clit, a gentle but punishing rhythm. She squealed a bit and Solas smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling at her. He struck harder against her, still soft enough to be pleasant, but enough to drag a long whine from her throat, her back arching up off the bed. A gentle but firm hand guided her hips back down to the mattress and held her there.

  
“Did you enjoy that, vhenan,” asked Solas, voice hardly more than a gravelly whisper. She nodded, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip caught between her teeth. His long fingers slid up and down, caressing between soft slick lips at the suffocating heat radiating between them. His thumb circled her clit, rubbing gently as it swelled with her pleasure. “Would you like more?”  
She nodded again with a light moan. “Would you like it harder?” Solas pitched his voice to a dangerously low register. Ellana froze, eyes snapping open, and nodded more urgently. “I must hear you say it, Inquisitor…”

  
“Yes,” she cried out in a cracked voice. “Yes, I want it harder--ah!” She yelped when the tips of his fingers slapped wetly against her clit, hips jerking up against his restraining hand.

  
“Again?” Solas probed, eyes intent on each reaction, the trembling of her thighs, the seizing muscles in her stomach, the yearning stretched across her face.

  
“Yes! Please!” Her stammered words petered out into a moan as Solas rewarded her again, taking particular care not to put strength into his tender strikes. The pleasure was in the shock of it, the sudden, brief contact with a sensitive area. Pain had no place in this exercise. A few more light slaps, and he bent to kiss the swollen bud, a gentle press of his lips, and another, lingering to soothe away the overstimulation, then bringing her slowly back up with a few long strokes of his tongue. Her whole body quaked when he sucked at each labia in turn, gathering the fresh viscous fluid that seeped from her heat on his tongue.

  
“I quite missed this, you know,” Solas informed her in a conversational tone. He couldn’t quite tell if her responding groan was one of lust or exasperation at his casual collection, and frankly, he didn’t care. “The taste of you…” His tongue flicked at her clit. That one was definitely a pleasurable groan. “The heat of you, how wonderfully wet you become for me.” He slipped his fingers into with ease and took a moment to suck hard at the pulsing bundle of nerves nestled between her folds. She squealed, and Solas smiled against her, his fingers making soft, wet, squelch as they flexed within her. “The way this pretty little cunt of yours tightens around me…”

  
Ellana tried to squeeze her thighs together, but Solas coaxed them apart easily with a few strokes and gentle kisses. He began to move his fingers faster, practiced in navigating the sweet petals of her from countless times in the Fade.

  
“It doesn’t even compare,” he whispered, a cheek pressed to her thigh, breath tickling at the moisture between her legs.

“Having you here, rather than in our dreams. So much softer, warmer, and so much more sensitive…” He chuckled, letting his other hand pet the thick curve of her thighs as he worked her.

  
“H-how are you still talking?” She demanded breathlessly, still possessed of enough of her wits for snark. Solas frowned. That wouldn’t do at all. A vicious curl of his fingers had her moaning in shock and pleasure and he picked up his pace, each wet smack of his palm against her, forcing staccato gasps from her lungs. Ellana’s knees hooked around his torso, head thrown back against the pillows. The tendons in her neck stood out as her panting grew louder, higher in pitch. She tried to cover her mouth, but Solas pinned her wrists with one large hand.

  
Ellana cried out her release, body jerking with each pulse, her juices pouring freely into Solas’ palm. His mouth came down over her when he removed his fingers, and he lapped up the remaining liquid eagerly, the tang of her calling back to the sweet wine he’d indulged in, as he indulged in her now. He sat up and wiped his mouth with the heel of his hand before swinging his feet off the bed to divest himself of his trousers. Ellana sat up abruptly and grabbed at his arm.

  
“You’re not leaving yet?” She cried, eyebrows arching in a plaintive look.

  
Solas nearly dropped his jaw in surprise. “Of course not...silly thing,” he pet the side of her face with a fond smile, a reassuring gentility in his tone to put her at ease. Then, he dropped his register again, low enough to rumble through his chest as his fingers plucked the buckle of his belt free with a metallic jingle. “You don’t think I’d let you escape without taking my own pleasure, do you, greedy girl?”

  
Ellana scooted to the edge of the mattress and helped rid Solas of his breeches and smalls, stroking his semi-erect cock with soft, eager touches. She watched as his eyelids fluttered shut and his head rolled back with a complacent sigh. He was of average length, though thicker than she had imagined, curving to the right and up in a way that held the promise of significant pleasure later on. For now, Ellana wrapped both hands around his girth and gave him a gentle squeeze. Her long, red hair framing her devious little face, the Inquisitor bit her lip in appreciation as his cock twitched in her grip, and Solas growled his approval. She began to pump at a slow pace, dragging her fingers over the velvety pink ridge of his swollen head. A wet string of precum dripped onto her hand and she swept her thumb over the slit to collect any remaining moisture that lingered. A soft moan left the lips of the mage at the addition of his own lubricant, smoothing the slide of her strokes.  
Then she bent her head and pressed her tongue flat against the underside of his cock, and Solas hissed as she slowly dragged it up, flicking past the ridge to tease at the blood-engorged head, darting the tip of her tongue at the tight slit. Then her mouth closed over him, and he choked out a low groan, hands fisting in her curls.

  
Ellana held back a laugh as she bobbed her head over him, lips taut around his pulsing member. Solas was LOUD. His moans of pleasure were completely uninhibited, deep and reverberating in his throat and chest as she took him deeper into her throat, jaw stretched to allow for his girth. Saliva dripped freely from her lips, viscous and warm down his length until he was panting, breathless, sweat beading on his forehead.

  
“Ah--vhenan!” He cried out. His fingers tightened in her hair, urging her to take him deeper. Ellana moaned around his cock, the vibrations causing his hips to jerk suddenly forward. Then she pulled back, Solas nearly whining at the loss of her hot, slick mouth around him. A gasp shuddered through his body when she moved lower, stroking him still with one hand, and dragged her tongue against the weight of his testes and she played her thumb over the head of his shaft, moist lips and tongue pulling at his sac, rolling each one carefully in her mouth until he pushed her back, heaved her onto the bed with one arm.

  
Solas then fell upon her like a man starved, devouring her mouth with his, hands tangled in her hair. He rolled their hips together, his erection pushing into her stomach, hard and insistent. One hand fell to twist at her nipple, still hidden away beneath her chemise. With an impatient growl, Solas pulled the garment up and over her head and cast it away with a derisive curl of his lip, as though the personally offended by the nerve of it at standing between him and the hardened pink peaks of Ellana’s breasts. Freed of the audacious chemise, Ellana pulled him back down eagerly. Solas latched onto one sweet bud and sucked, leaving his tongue over it while he fondled the other, large hand sinking into the pliant flesh. She arched up into him, nails digging hard into his shoulders.

  
“Solas, pleases,” she gasped, voice pitched high and losing control.

  
“Not yet, vhenan,” panted Solas, breath warm and tingling against her skin.

  
Ellana squirmed with a grumble of impatience. Her fingers raked down his back and he arched away, air hissing through his teeth. His cock pulsed against her hip and Solas paused his thrusting to catch his breath.

  
“Do you think…” he panted, chest heaving. “You’ll get your way...by misbehaving?”

  
She bit him in response, a sharp little flash of teeth against firm, flushed lips. His answering cry was was one of mingled outrage and feverish lust. Her teeth scraped at his neck next, his hips bucking without his permission. Solas tried to pin her down, but her mouth found his ear next, her fingers pinching at his reddening nipples. He buried her face in her shoulder with a low moan, drowning in the scent of her hair as she teased her tongue up the slender edge of his ear to the pointed tip. With each flash of her teeth and the soothing attentions from her lips and tongue, Solas grinder harder against her until he could scarcely bear it.

  
“Torturess…” he spat against her skin, appreciating the devious little giggle the word elicited from her. “If that’s how you wish this to go…”

  
Solas pushed himself up on his knees and dragged her forward by her hips, the silk sheets rustling as they skimmed across her skin. Taking himself in one hand, he pressed the profusely leaking head of his cock against the pulsing heat between her legs. Ellana keened and lifted her pelvis to grant him better access, but instead of plunging into her as he so desperately yearned to, Solas simply teased at her, rubbing the tip of his cock between glossy labia, over the swollen red bud of her clit, and prodding at her entrance until she was writhing with madness, pleading for him between heaving breaths as she twisted in the silken sheets. Her legs wrapped around him in a vain attempt to pull him into her, but despite her own substantial strength, Solas scarcely budged, keeping up with his slow, controlled ministrations instead. He even considered humming a bit, just to see that adorable little face screw up in fury, contorting the lilac lines of the vallaslin crawling over her cheeks and forehead, but Solas decided he wasn’t quite ready to die for the joke.

  
Just as the frustrated woman beneath him began to get truly frustrated, Solas threw his hips forward and buried himself hilt-deep with a positively obscene, wet gush. Ellana’s body rocked back, a ragged scream tore loose from her chest, and she clutched at his strong, wiry arms like an anchor. His pace was slow and brutal, gradually picking up speed as her cries peaked and her head rolled back against satin pillows. Every soaking wet slap of his thighs against her rear drew increasingly desperate noises from both of them. Pale fingers sank into the malleable flesh of her hips. Solas angled her up further, using his thumbs to pull apart sweet, fleshy cheeks. Ellana’s breath hitched as each thrust now brought forth a fresh spray of warm liquid, and every time Solas brought his hips crashing against hers, plunging deep and merciless, his sac slapped at her anus, dripping with wetness from the deluge of her cum. Tears ran down her cheeks, throat was raw with her screams, and she clung to him, kissing Solas with open-mouthed fervor. They each breathed in the other’s wails and grunts of ecstasy as their climax grew near. Solas was hardly thrusting by this point so much as they simply writhed together, pressed skin to skin with hardly a space between them.

  
“Creators, yes, Solas!” Ellana sobbed against his lips.

  
He swore a long curse in Elvish, one that Ellana wasn’t in the right mind to parse.

  
“What’d you call me,” she gasped, apparently never in the wrong mindset for a jest.

  
Solas dug a fist into her hair, wet and sticky with sweat, and brought his lips against her ear. His breath was hot and damp and in tatters. “I said,” he growled with a predatory edge that had her making a sound she’d be ashamed to later call a mewl. “That I’m going to fuck your pretty little cunt until you cannot possibly come anymore, until you can scarcely remember your own name, or mine.” Every single word was carefully, painstakingly enunciated as he rutted against her with renewed vigor. “And then I am going to fill you with my seed until you are fit to burst, until it spurts from you as if it were your own.”  
“Fuck,” was her succinct reply, followed by a sharp catch of air in her lungs when he slapped a flat palm against her rear that jerked her hips up hard.

  
“Come for me, Ellana,” he whispered hoarsely. Her inner walls tightened. SHe was so close. He never used her name. It was always ‘Inquisitor’, or ‘vhenan’, occasionally ‘Miss Lavellan’ if he was displeased with her, or even ‘da’len’ if he was in a teasing mood.

  
“Say it again...my name…” she pleaded as his cock struck deep inside of her.

  
Solas chuckled breathlessly and bent to the lovely arch of her ear. This time his voice was soft, gentle, barely a whisper. “Ellana. Come for me...come,” he coaxed sweetly.

  
Sparks surged through every nerve. Ellana couldn’t tell if she was screaming or not, her mouth gaping as a final orgasm tore through her, whole body shaking violently. Solas had his face buried in her vibrant hair, cupping the back of her head and the thick curve of her thigh with clawing fingers. His lips moved in a soundless prayer against her neck, glistening with sweat. Thick strings of their mingled cum dripped down her bottom, down his thigh, making a sticky mess of the expensive silk sheets beneath them. Their chests heaved together as they came down, curled around each other with their legs tangled. Solas nuzzled against her skin, kissing every bit he could reached; her shoulders, her neck, her breasts, before moving to rub their noses together and rain kisses across her cheeks and her rosy, gasping lips. The younger woman sighed in contentment, holding him close and tracing abstract patterns between his shoulder blades. They lay together for some time, unspeaking, letting their fingers trail over each other’s bare, sweaty skin, sharing gentle, lingering kisses.

  
“We should get back,” Ellana murmured with no small amount of reluctance.

  
Solas hummed in agreement and sat up with a languorous stretch. “We should locate our clothing in that case. A shame.”  
“Terrible shame,” she concurred, eyeing his backside as he strode to the pile of clothing with a confident swagger. He caught her staring and smirked over a broad, freckled shoulder.

  
“Do you see something you like, vhenan?” He asked.

  
“Creators, yes.”

  
A bark of laughter burst from his chest, and he swept an appraising glance over her nude form as she reclined against Celene’s opulent bedding. One day, perhaps, he would see to it that the Inquisitor had her own royal chambers to lounge in, when elves took back their magic and their world. For now, it pleased him to see her wrapped in those silken sheets, with her curls wild and tangled around her, breasts hanging freely as she sat up on one elbow and smiled at him. “As do I, ma lath,” he smiled, gently but with a calculating gleam in his stormy eyes. “As do I.”

 


End file.
